The God Delusion [Rocco EoD 2.2]
Oct 10, 2019 15:27:46 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Kira Izumi, and 1 more like this
Post by Steele on Oct 10, 2019 15:27:46 GMT -5
Our scene begins not with the traditional black screen, but with a white one. Well, not quite white but a whitish-grey, a reflective and metallic whitish-grey.
A hazy blob begins to creep into the frame, travelling towards the centre of the screen and getting smaller, the edges of the image becoming crisp and defined as the camera focuses on it.
It is an image familiar to everybody.
It soon becomes evident that we are looking at the lid of an expensive, top-of-the-line Apple Macbook. As the camera pans back further, we see that the laptop is open, situated on a desk, and across the desk from us sits Rocco Rose.
His face breaks out into an enormous grin as he stares into the screen of his Macbook. He begins to laugh.
What starts as a small, stifled chuckle soon breaks into an enormous belly-laugh; a full-on, head-back, roar of amusement emanates from Rocco's mouth as he wipes a stray tear of mirth from his left eye with his thumb.
The laughter goes on for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, mercifully, Rocco reaches out and closes the lid of the machine as the laughter begins to die down, almost struggling to catch his breath.
"Oh boy, you crack me up, you really do."
Rocco turns his gaze from the closed laptop in front of him, to look directly at the camera.
"San-Hyun Lee, I owe you an apology. And believe me when I say this; I don't give those out very often. Hardly ever, as a matter of fact. I'm not usually wrong. But I guess I was wrong about you, or at least I was slightly mistaken."
"Now I suppose I could have looked in the AXW archives like you suggested but... heh. Why would I want to subject myself to that? Besides, you're one to talk. Terry Bradshaw crashed a helicopter into the Bethesda VFW, not a plane. Jesus. get it right..."
"Alright, alright... enough joking around. So I had you pegged as a deathmatch specialist, someone who makes up for their lack of skill by taking to the ring with an arsenal of weapons with the intention of beating their opponent into a bloody pulp because they lack the requisite skill to out-wrestle them, to beat them by fair means."
"But here you are - the so-called "Technical God", coming to me live from... underneath a streetlamp, apparently... to put me straight and tell me exactly who you are."
"Well, Sang-Hyun? Who are you? You gave me a stirring speech full of... nothing. I know just as much about you now as I did before - and that's not a lot at all. See, you're still trading off of past glories - you paint this vibrant picture of yourself that you tell us is an oil painting, but on closer inspection we can see it for what it really is, a child's scrawl in crayon."
"You put me to shame when I said that your one major career highlight came against Kira Izumi. Because you regaled us with a tale of glory where you ALMOST beat Rob Arnold! The great Rob Arnold! The washed-up, shadow-of-his-former-self Rob Arnold. You bragged about how you stood toe-to-toe with the XHF legend and in the same breath you ask me who I've beaten."
"Are you kidding me?"
"If you're basing success on who you nearly beat then you'll forgive me when I tell you a story of the man I most definitely did beat. And this didn't happen two years ago in the first match of some rinky-dink start-up, no, this happened a month back on the thirty-ninth episode of the XHF's premier television show, AWF Prestige, when I took the Mad Titan Hyperion to task, I beat him within an inch of his life and I had him bowing to his new king, Saint Rocco. I had him beat - even though the record books don't agree with me because I had my win stolen out from under my nose but believe me - I had him beat."
"Where is Hyperion now? He's the AWF's top champion. And where is Rob Arnold?"
"Retired."
Rocco lets the word hang in the air as he stares down the camera.
"So don't you go asking me who I am, what I've done, when your greatest achievement is nearly beating a man who was past his sell-by-date. Because I've had the best, right here and right now, laying on their back for me."
"And since you're so keen on delving into the past - well I'll indulge you. I've been wrestling since I can remember. I represented the state of California in this sport. I turned down a sure-fire spot on the Olympic team in 2012 because I was offered a spot in the pro leagues. That's how in-demand I am. I was the hottest star up and down the West coast for years. It's no accident that I finally made my way to the big leagues. AWF."
"And you - well, you've said it yourself. You'll never go to AWF. But I get the feeling that deep in your heart of hearts, you know that's a choice that has been made for you. You pretend like you won't go there out of principle, but in reality you know it's because you just aren't good enough. Because, let's face it - if AWF is really the big bad guy like you say they are, then why are they still going strong when AXW is going under? You see the AWF as the enemy - then you see success as the enemy."
He leans back in his chair, looking rather relaxed and pleased with himself. He appears to be enjoying this.
"AXW has more wrestling, better wrestling! You so proudly declared. Well very soon, Sang-Hyun, it's going to have no wrestling."
A laugh, almost an evil cackle, escapes Rocco's lips. The corner of his mouth curls up into a shit-eating smirk.
"And, ohhhh, your ace in the hole. The racism card. In one fleeting moment, one throwaway line, Rocco Rose outed himself as a vile racist. A nazi. A bigot."
"No."
"In one fleeting moment, one throwaway line, Rocco Rose just took everything away from you."
"I'm no racist, Sang-Hyun. I said what I did to get that exact reaction out of you. I wanted you to be shocked. I wanted you to be offended. I wanted you to hate my guts, to hate everything bout me - I want you to come into this match not just with a view to competing, I want you to come in here defending you very honour as a Korean man."
"I want you to put it all on the line, Sang-Hyun. This match is worth so much more to you now... and so the victory will be worth so much more to me."
"Because now, I won't just be beating a man who came for a wrestlng match, I'll be beating a man who is fighting to defend everything he has left to defend. Your pride is on the line now, and I will relish stripping it from you and watching it dissolve away into nothing. I want you to walk into that ring on Sunday night with fire in your eyes, with hatred in your heart, with a dream and a will to vanquish the so-called racist Rocco Rose, to smite me for my evil, I want you to hang everything you have on this match, Sang-Hyun, to put every fibre of your being behind your punches, to exert every last ounce of strength you have in executing your throws and your submissions..."
"...I want you to bring it all, because I want to take it all away from you. I will leave you with nothing. I will leave you as nothing."
"You claim to be the "Technical God" - heh. Remember the story of the last man I faced who deigned himself to be a God? I broke him. But I'll humour you, for now."
"You, the "Technical God" versus me, the "Technical Professor. But... which professor?""
"Einstein? Kinsey? Sagan? Langdon?"
Rocco sits up and leans towards the camera, shaking his head slowly. He has a smug look of self-satisfaction plastered across his face.
"No. You'll soon find out that I'm the wrestling world's Richard Dawkins, and I'm going to prove once and for all that God..."
"Doesn't..."
"Exist."
Rocco continues to stare into the camera, and we fade to black.
A hazy blob begins to creep into the frame, travelling towards the centre of the screen and getting smaller, the edges of the image becoming crisp and defined as the camera focuses on it.
It is an image familiar to everybody.
It soon becomes evident that we are looking at the lid of an expensive, top-of-the-line Apple Macbook. As the camera pans back further, we see that the laptop is open, situated on a desk, and across the desk from us sits Rocco Rose.
His face breaks out into an enormous grin as he stares into the screen of his Macbook. He begins to laugh.
What starts as a small, stifled chuckle soon breaks into an enormous belly-laugh; a full-on, head-back, roar of amusement emanates from Rocco's mouth as he wipes a stray tear of mirth from his left eye with his thumb.
The laughter goes on for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, mercifully, Rocco reaches out and closes the lid of the machine as the laughter begins to die down, almost struggling to catch his breath.
"Oh boy, you crack me up, you really do."
Rocco turns his gaze from the closed laptop in front of him, to look directly at the camera.
"San-Hyun Lee, I owe you an apology. And believe me when I say this; I don't give those out very often. Hardly ever, as a matter of fact. I'm not usually wrong. But I guess I was wrong about you, or at least I was slightly mistaken."
"Now I suppose I could have looked in the AXW archives like you suggested but... heh. Why would I want to subject myself to that? Besides, you're one to talk. Terry Bradshaw crashed a helicopter into the Bethesda VFW, not a plane. Jesus. get it right..."
"Alright, alright... enough joking around. So I had you pegged as a deathmatch specialist, someone who makes up for their lack of skill by taking to the ring with an arsenal of weapons with the intention of beating their opponent into a bloody pulp because they lack the requisite skill to out-wrestle them, to beat them by fair means."
"But here you are - the so-called "Technical God", coming to me live from... underneath a streetlamp, apparently... to put me straight and tell me exactly who you are."
"Well, Sang-Hyun? Who are you? You gave me a stirring speech full of... nothing. I know just as much about you now as I did before - and that's not a lot at all. See, you're still trading off of past glories - you paint this vibrant picture of yourself that you tell us is an oil painting, but on closer inspection we can see it for what it really is, a child's scrawl in crayon."
"You put me to shame when I said that your one major career highlight came against Kira Izumi. Because you regaled us with a tale of glory where you ALMOST beat Rob Arnold! The great Rob Arnold! The washed-up, shadow-of-his-former-self Rob Arnold. You bragged about how you stood toe-to-toe with the XHF legend and in the same breath you ask me who I've beaten."
"Are you kidding me?"
"If you're basing success on who you nearly beat then you'll forgive me when I tell you a story of the man I most definitely did beat. And this didn't happen two years ago in the first match of some rinky-dink start-up, no, this happened a month back on the thirty-ninth episode of the XHF's premier television show, AWF Prestige, when I took the Mad Titan Hyperion to task, I beat him within an inch of his life and I had him bowing to his new king, Saint Rocco. I had him beat - even though the record books don't agree with me because I had my win stolen out from under my nose but believe me - I had him beat."
"Where is Hyperion now? He's the AWF's top champion. And where is Rob Arnold?"
"Retired."
Rocco lets the word hang in the air as he stares down the camera.
"So don't you go asking me who I am, what I've done, when your greatest achievement is nearly beating a man who was past his sell-by-date. Because I've had the best, right here and right now, laying on their back for me."
"And since you're so keen on delving into the past - well I'll indulge you. I've been wrestling since I can remember. I represented the state of California in this sport. I turned down a sure-fire spot on the Olympic team in 2012 because I was offered a spot in the pro leagues. That's how in-demand I am. I was the hottest star up and down the West coast for years. It's no accident that I finally made my way to the big leagues. AWF."
"And you - well, you've said it yourself. You'll never go to AWF. But I get the feeling that deep in your heart of hearts, you know that's a choice that has been made for you. You pretend like you won't go there out of principle, but in reality you know it's because you just aren't good enough. Because, let's face it - if AWF is really the big bad guy like you say they are, then why are they still going strong when AXW is going under? You see the AWF as the enemy - then you see success as the enemy."
He leans back in his chair, looking rather relaxed and pleased with himself. He appears to be enjoying this.
"AXW has more wrestling, better wrestling! You so proudly declared. Well very soon, Sang-Hyun, it's going to have no wrestling."
A laugh, almost an evil cackle, escapes Rocco's lips. The corner of his mouth curls up into a shit-eating smirk.
"And, ohhhh, your ace in the hole. The racism card. In one fleeting moment, one throwaway line, Rocco Rose outed himself as a vile racist. A nazi. A bigot."
"No."
"In one fleeting moment, one throwaway line, Rocco Rose just took everything away from you."
"I'm no racist, Sang-Hyun. I said what I did to get that exact reaction out of you. I wanted you to be shocked. I wanted you to be offended. I wanted you to hate my guts, to hate everything bout me - I want you to come into this match not just with a view to competing, I want you to come in here defending you very honour as a Korean man."
"I want you to put it all on the line, Sang-Hyun. This match is worth so much more to you now... and so the victory will be worth so much more to me."
"Because now, I won't just be beating a man who came for a wrestlng match, I'll be beating a man who is fighting to defend everything he has left to defend. Your pride is on the line now, and I will relish stripping it from you and watching it dissolve away into nothing. I want you to walk into that ring on Sunday night with fire in your eyes, with hatred in your heart, with a dream and a will to vanquish the so-called racist Rocco Rose, to smite me for my evil, I want you to hang everything you have on this match, Sang-Hyun, to put every fibre of your being behind your punches, to exert every last ounce of strength you have in executing your throws and your submissions..."
"...I want you to bring it all, because I want to take it all away from you. I will leave you with nothing. I will leave you as nothing."
"You claim to be the "Technical God" - heh. Remember the story of the last man I faced who deigned himself to be a God? I broke him. But I'll humour you, for now."
"You, the "Technical God" versus me, the "Technical Professor. But... which professor?""
"Einstein? Kinsey? Sagan? Langdon?"
Rocco sits up and leans towards the camera, shaking his head slowly. He has a smug look of self-satisfaction plastered across his face.
"No. You'll soon find out that I'm the wrestling world's Richard Dawkins, and I'm going to prove once and for all that God..."
"Doesn't..."
"Exist."
Rocco continues to stare into the camera, and we fade to black.